Beautiful
by Tennant'sWolfOfGallifrey
Summary: Two souls meet and a fiery passion ignites between them; two completely different worlds brought together by a common interest. Can their relationship survive the scrutiny of a close minded society as friends? Lovers? They're both gifted with youth, talent, smarts, and beauty... but such beauty can be as dangerous as it is tantalizing... Rated M for mature themes and language.


**Prologue**

I ran my freshly manicured hands through my cinnamon brown bangs and sighed deeply as I looked up at my reflection in the mirror. Hazel eyes stared back at me as I looked, searched for something... brown eye shadow, brown eye liner, rosy pink blush on the apples of my cheeks, and a mocha color on my lips. Who was this girl staring back at me? Who was the creature whose eyes hid such misery behind mascara lengthened eyelashes? Money... that's all I saw as I stood up and turned to scrutinize myself in the mirror; a puppet to the filthy rich, close minded fools I called _parents_. Did I let them dictate my _entire_ life? No, I'm 22, of course not... but I did still have to accommodate to their rules, seeing as how I am still under their roof. I was still their little doll that they could dress up as they wished, just to please their own pompous friends and business partners at dinner parties and the like. I resented being rich... it made everyone view me as stuck up, prissy, bitch that is spoiled rotten by daddy... I may be rich and spoiled, but I sure as shit didn't act like it. I could raise hell if I damn well pleased, but only when sticking up for what I believe in. No one and nothing else was worth causing a fuss over...

I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the girl in the mirror... she's nothing and I hated that I had to put on such a facade. It made me feel as if my parents didn't accept me... my mother had made it quite clear that she didn't when I started buying my own clothes and doing my own make up. I can still hear her voice clear as the day it began... _Why don't you wear other colors besides black? You look like a raccoon when you do your eye liner like that. Why don't you wear lighter colors? You dress like you don't have any money or very little. Those jeans are torn at the bottoms. Why don't you wear the stuff I buy you? _Good Lord, it was a never ending battle with her... a battle I was never going to win. She may not like it, but I love to wear jeans and band shirts, do nothing with my hair but straighten and throw it in a low ponytail, and to wear black clothes and make up. If I wanted to dress and do my make up like it's Halloween every damn day, then I will. But tonight, she wins...

I picked up my curling iron and fixed a ringlet that had fallen from my constant, antsy, adjusting. I felt uncomfortable... this wasn't me, it never has been. I put down the curling iron and sighed deeply at the girl in the mirror... she's not real. A few hours and I'll be in my jeans and band shirts again, going to a little late night mic night downtown with a couple friends. I turned to my left and lifted up my dress to reveal my tattooed thigh. The tattoo was a mix of musical elements, everything from the treble and bass clef to the 50's style microphone. It wasn't much... but it was me. I smiled at the one piece of me that my mom couldn't dress up or _"fix"_, in her terms, besides my heart. I heard the knob on my room door turn and quickly dropped my dress back down as I turned to see my mother come in my room. She was in a pale pink dress with a shawl to match and her mahogany hair was up in an elegant bun, showing off the pure 14 karat, blood diamond, earrings hanging from her ears and a necklace to match... she sure had no problem flaunting the fact she had money. Her face lit up when she saw me in the champagne colored dress and I was instantly disgusted at the fact that she loves me looking like someone I'm not rather than myself.

She stepped towards me with her arms outstretched and it took everything I had not to shrink away in disgust as she advanced, "Oh, Honey, you look breathtaking."

_Oh, sure, when I don't look "gothic" or "emo"..._

I spoke in an unemotional voice, but I made sure to sound as ungrateful and as unflattered by her "compliment" as possible, "Thanks."

She ignored my tone and I stiffened as she took it a step further and hugged me lightly. I held in a disgusted groan and she pulled away to smile at me, "It's time to go, your father is having the car pulled around."

The party was everything I expected it to be... a bunch of stuffed shirts with money. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with a man in a suit... it's just the personality and attitude for me. I nursed the glass of champagne in my hand as I stood against the wall, watching party goers socialize, dance, and stuff their faces. Why my mother continued to drag me to these parties, I'll never know... Several gentlemen asked for a dance, but I politely turned them all down. I'm not anyone's type here... I just _appeared _to be, unfortunately. After several hours of excruciating boredom, we finally left and returned home. I immediately retreated to my room and closed the door behind me, unzipping my dress as I walked across the hardwood floors to my walk-in closet. I let it fall to the floor and stepped out of it, my heels continuing to click across the floor as I did so.

I lifted my arms and grabbed the crystal doorknobs of my closet doors, turning them and opening the sugar cube white doors. I bent down and unbuckled my heels, kicking them off and into the back of my closet, not caring where they landed after hitting the wall in the back of my closet. I ran my fingers over my shirts that hung on hangers, not quite sure what I wanted to wear tonight. I bent down and took my red, plaid miniskirt off the hanger and a pair of black leggings as well. When I stood back up, I opened a drawer and took out a black tank top, closing the drawer back up with my hip after grabbing a bra. I put on all of the articles of clothing in my hands, tucking my tank top into my skirt and flipping my hair over my shoulders, out from underneath my tank top. My curls had fallen out and now all that remained was a slight wave to my hair and the ends flipped out, my bangs still straight over my forehead.

After dressing, I slipped on my spiked ankle boots and stepped out of my closet to sit at my vanity once more. I gazed at the simple girl in the mirror and sighed deeply as I grabbed a makeup remover wipe, lifting it to wipe away the mud brown eye shadow and liner that highlighted my hazel eyes. Once my eyes were rid of the color, I opened my box of makeup and pulled out my black eye liner, turning it over in my fingers before I took the cap off and swiped it over my top lid. I didn't want to pile the makeup back on my face, so I just settled for eye liner on my top eyelids and traded out my mocha lipstick for just plain Chapstick. I ran the brush through my cinnamon waves once more before standing up and grabbing my 3/4 sleeve jacket, sliding it onto my shoulders and then grabbing my phone off my nightstand before making my exit.

I ended up meeting a couple friends at a little bar where they were having an open mic night, downtown. We bought our drinks and grabbed a table close to the stage right as two girls finished their song. The girls were okay singers, but I must have been the only one to think so because everyone went wild when they finished, even my friends. I guess you could say that there are only certain types of music that catch my interest. The girls took their leave from the stage and I clapped out of courtesy, not really paying attention as they introduced a band next. I took a drink and almost choked on my drink in surprise as everyone else started to snicker quietly, even my friends. I didn't laugh, all I could do was stare... the band was in all black and the front man was in a black suit, his straight black hair brushing his shoulders. He wore makeup, had gauges, tattoos on his neck and hands as far as I could see, even piercings on his bottom lip.

Everyone else had started making comments about his looks, but I didn't mind and didn't pay the assholes any mind. Instead, I sort of smiled as I continued to stare... I was captivated, but most of all impressed at how brave he was for getting up in public and doing what he pleased. I gripped my jacket together at the collar with my left hand and bit my bottom lip as I listened to his music, the gripping emotion and melancholy that resonated with every line he sang. His music wasn't what everyone wanted to hear, but everything _I_ wanted to hear...

"You suck!" Yelled an obviously intoxicated bystander. "Fag!"

There were other things being yelled at the band that were obviously not true... at least not to me and anyone else that was into heavy rock and music with _true _meaning behind it's lyrics.

At the end of the song, the lead singer spoke to the crowd, "Thank you for listening and fuck you!"

I smiled even wider at how he took no bullshit and watched as he turned to make his exit behind his band members, but not before his eyes landed on me. My smile faded and I swallowed the lump in my throat as his dark eyes met mine... he grinned at me, but more to himself as he turned away and hopped off the stage. I let out the breath I had been holding in and I felt my face get hot with a blush. I continued to stare at the curtain where he and his band members had disappeared behind as my friends talked among themselves.

"Why would any guy in their right mind go out in public looking like that?"

"God, he looked like that one creepy guy that did a cover of Tainted Love. You know, the one that had the music video on Not Another Teen Movie."

"Marilyn Manson?" I chimed in, not tearing my eyes from the curtain.

"That's who it was! Yeah."

I didn't agree with them at all... he wasn't a copy... he was different. Marilyn Manson was more creepy than anything. This guy... he was mysterious and brought a sort of sexiness to such a style. He had his own unique beauty... and I liked it...

* * *

**Author's Note: **This is my first time putting one of my own stories on here, so please don't use anything without permission! If you couldn't tell by the cover of the story, the inspiration for the lead singer is Chris Motionless of Motionless In White. I had a dream a couple nights ago about him and couldn't get it out of my head, I knew I had to write about it on my own because every fanfiction I write about I felt wouldn't do him and this story the justice they deserved by not using original characters, besides Chris Motionless himself. His name will be different in this story because fanfiction doesn't approve of us using REAL people being wrote about, so that is the only reason why his name is being changed. Anyways, I hope this has caught your interest and hope you follow or favorite this one. Please, review and let me know your thoughts. :)


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